


The Caretaker

by LateStarter58



Series: Sarah's Smutty Notebook [12]
Category: Return to Cranford, William Buxton - Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Meet-Cute, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 03:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17052200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: Trainee civil engineer Will Buxton hasn’t met any of his new neighbours yet, and then one Friday evening after work, he hears a cry of anguish…





	1. The Kindness of Strangers

_‘Aaah!’_

The tall, smartly-dressed young man standing in the lobby looked round sharply. He had just emptied his post-box and was sifting through the contents, weeding out the junk mail to put straight into the recycling. The sound had come from outside the main doors to his left.

_‘Ssss!’_

Another painful sound, this time a hiss, followed by some muffled swearing.

_A woman’s voice_. _A damsel in distress._

The man’s chivalrous nature kicked in and he turned and walked briskly to the door in search of the source.

_Not a damsel, a lady…_

He spotted her immediately, even in the poor light from the sodium street lamps; a dark-haired woman was leaning awkwardly against one of the communal bins in the gloomy, partially screened-off area to one side of the block entrance. There were two black rubbish bags at her feet where, apparently, she had dropped them. Her head was down and her chest heaving. She was clearly in trouble.

‘Excuse me, but is everything alright?’

‘Not really, no,’ her voice was weak, distant, as if it hurt her to make a sound. ‘I’ve just wrenched my back lifting these bloody bags,’ she pointed at the sacks, ‘and now I daren’t move. Sorry…’

He closed the gap between them in a few swift strides of his long legs and gently took hold of her arm. She turned her head and he recognised her: she was the rather attractive, slightly older woman who lived in the flat two doors down, opposite his. They had shared the lift a few times since he moved in a month ago. A feeble smile lit up her strained features when she saw who he was.

‘Please, let me help you, Mrs..?’

‘Liz Cooper. Just Liz.’

‘I’m Will Buxton. I moved in last month. We live on the same floor, I think?’

Liz nodded. Of course she’d noticed him: he was strikingly handsome, fair and tall with it. Half her age, no doubt, but _a cat can look at a king_ , as the saying goes.

‘Hold on.’ He shoved his post into his jacket pocket, tossed the heavy bags of refuse into the giant bins as if they weighed nothing, then he offered his long arm for her to lean on. ‘Come on Liz, let me help you back to your flat.’

She nodded and carefully hooked her free arm through his, still reluctant to straighten up. The pain had gone into the left side of her lower back like a knife, and she had been standing more-or-less on one leg ever since. The two attempts she had made to move unaided had caused the exclamations of pain which had caught Will’s attention.

Gritting her teeth, she shifted cautiously, gradually allowing the weight onto her left leg.

‘AAARGH!’

William wrapped his arm around her, taking as much of the strain as he could. She seemed to be in agony and he just could not bear to see it.

‘Look, it’s not far. Let me carry you.’

Liz started to laugh, despite the pain. ‘No, no. Even if you could lift me, I’m afraid that would be even worse.’ She looked into his lovely face, his eyebrows raised in almost comical arch of concern. ‘You are very kind, but no. Just let me lean on you so I can keep as much weight off the left as possible.’

She tried again, and, with her weak side against him and the strength of his long arm around her she was able to hobble into the lobby, Will acting as her crutch. A gasp on every step proved that it wasn’t pain-free, but it was manageable, at least, and so they made their way laboriously towards the lift.

‘Has this ever happened before?’

A bitter laugh. ‘Yes, a few times. I hurt my back as a teenager and it’s never been right since. I can go years without trouble, but then one false move…’

William looked at her sympathetically. ‘My father suffers with his back a lot. I sometimes wonder if humans are meant to walk upright.’ He smiled and she paused to look at it, dazzled by the beauty of him. He smelt lovely too, clean and fresh.

_It really is completely unreasonable._

They made it to the lift, and Will pressed the call button with one of his ridiculously long, elegant fingers. Liz stood, wobbling slightly and cursing her luck. How come she only gets to be this close to someone like him when incapable of doing anything about it and, most likely, looking about a hundred years old?

‘So, is there someone there to take care of you tonight?’

‘Sorry?’ Liz blushed. Her thoughts had been drifting, and William’s question sounded like an innuendo to her addled mind. ‘Oh, er… no. I live alone, but I’ll be fine.’

The chime went then and they got into the lift, neither quickly nor easily. ‘I don’t think you will be fine, you know.’ His face was full of anxiety; she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. There was no way she could manage on her own.

The lift started upwards and a surge of pain made Liz gasp and moan a little. William held her tighter and she wanted to moan again. They were soon at their floor and this time he was ready; he braced her against him as the car jolted to a stop and her discomfort was much less. It took them a few minutes to cover the fifty or so feet to her flat, but it was accomplished with relatively little difficulty. Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans proved unachievable, so once again William deployed his long fingers. This touch was more intimate and Liz couldn’t help but shiver at the contact. She felt him pause for a split-second before he hooked her key-ring and then opened her door.

After helping her to the sofa, Will went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

‘Painkillers?’

Liz looked up to see him in the doorway. He was as high as the frame, his blond curls brushing the wood. Looking at him properly now, she saw he had on a smart suit and his shoes were polished. She wondered idly what he did for a living.

_He could be a gigolo…he’d make a mint…_

‘Oh, top cupboard on the right. I _think_ there’s some left.’

Seconds later he was there with the glass and her drugs. Once he was satisfied she was comfortable where she was, he returned to make tea, the British cure for all ills.

Liz heard him opening cupboards and the fridge. ‘Are you looking for something, Will?’

He reappeared in the doorway.

‘I was just looking to see what I might cook you for dinner.’

‘Oh darling, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine, as I said…’

‘It’s no trouble. I love to cook.’

Will was in his element. He had been feeling a bit lonely, and he loved to look after people. He had hoped to get to know his new neighbours, but so far there hadn’t been a real opportunity. People seemed so walled-off, literally and figuratively, in their private little boxes within the building. Now he had a chance: Liz was in need of his help, and it didn’t hurt that she was a very beautiful lady as well. He brought through the tea, sitting across the room from her and looking around. There were many paintings on the walls, and a big collection of CDs next to an expensive-looking hi-fi system. A large, crowded desk with a computer on it occupied one end of the room.

‘So, tell me Liz, what do you like to eat? I can rustle up an omelette for you, or some pasta?’

Liz was still trying to think of a good reason to send him away, but there was none. It was obvious that she wouldn’t be able to cook, or even answer the door if she ordered take-away, and he seemed so keen to help. And heaven knows he was easy on the eye. As long as he didn’t turn out to be a serial killer or something, why not?

‘I really don’t mind, Will. But on one condition.’

He looked at her, eyebrows raised quizzically.

‘That you join me. There is no way that I am going to let you cook for me otherwise.’

He laughed; it was a sweet, childlike sound which made her stomach flip over; much higher in tone than his deep, masculine speaking voice. ‘Of course I will. I’m helpful, but I’m not a saint.’

Half-an-hour later they sat with trays on their laps (getting to the table had proved too much of a trial for her) and glasses of the good red wine she had been saving for an occasion. Will had made a simple risotto after checking out Liz’s recipe book collection and seeing a definite bias towards Italy. The ingredients had presented themselves, and he loved the soothing process of stirring and the way you had to let the rice tell you when to add more stock. It was a task which required mindfulness, and the Arborio rice was like a living thing, so different from the computers and abstract plans he worked with most of the time as a trainee civil engineer.

Liz was having her best night in ages. Her back notwithstanding, she couldn’t remember enjoying someone’s company more and that didn’t even include how gorgeous he was to look at. The painkillers had helped, and so had the wine, but mainly it was the distraction of Will’s blue-grey eyes and handsome features. She kept telling herself that he had to be no more than twenty-five, and she was over forty, but the warm dark brown velvet of his voice made butterflies swirl in her belly. He fixed her with such an intense look that she sometimes felt she had to look away as a blush rose up her neck, as if she were some silly teenage girl.

But most of the time his conversation alone was enough to enthral her. Their discussions ranged over art, music, films and novels; there seemed to be no area in which they could not find common ground. He was intrigued when she confessed she was a writer, and asked for the titles of her published work. For such a young man, Will seemed to have a very mature approach to life and he was endlessly interested. She did not guess for a moment that he was struggling to keep his own composure during dinner.

Will thought Liz was stunning. When he had seen her in the lift on previous occasions he had to make himself stop staring, she was so incredibly attractive. Now he had discovered that not only was she lovely to look at, she was highly intelligent and witty, so different from the girls he knew. And she was single… He was reminded of the French actress Juliette Binoche when he looked at her; she had the same effortless sexiness and glamour. Liz would have laughed long and hard at that. And now they were becoming friends. Silently, Will gave thanks that she had hurt her back at the perfect moment – for him, anyway.

After he had cleared away all the dinner things, made coffee and fetched the chocolates Liz had failed to open at Christmas, Will sat carefully next to her on the sofa, lowering himself so gently that she started to giggle.

‘You know, you’ll make someone a lovely husband one day.’ He blushed and looked at his hands. ‘You have been amazingly kind to a complete stranger.’

‘You’re not a stranger! We’re neighbours. And anyway, I bet you’d do the same for me, if I needed help.’

He risked a look into her eyes. There was a spark: he felt it, and he was pretty certain that she did too. He knew his father would have a fit if he thought his son was interested in an older woman, and a writer at that. Hardly the ‘responsible choice’.

‘Would you like to listen to something?’ He was gesturing towards her massive CD collection.

‘You choose. If you can find anything you like.’ It was 75% classical, so she doubted he would, but it was nice to watch as he crouched down and scanned the titles. After a few minutes he made his choice and put a disc in the player. Liz smiled when it started. It was one of her favourites: Schubert piano duets.

‘You like Schubert, Will?’

Yes, I do rather. I used to play this with my cousin, back at home.’

‘On the piano?’ He nodded. ‘Wow…’

_Was there no end to it? I expect next he’ll say he’s kind to animals and helps little old ladies across… Hang on…_

Will carefully reclaimed his spot on the sofa and passed Liz the chocolates. She declined, but he popped another praline in his mouth, bit into it and moaned his pleasure at the taste. The room suddenly became too warm. He was sitting a little closer now, and she could feel the heat of his young body. It was getting all a bit too cougar-ish for her taste…

‘Are you sure I’m not keeping you from something, Will? I can’t believe that this was how you intended to spend your Friday night: sitting on a sofa with an old crock.’ She looked at him. _Christ, the girls must be falling over themselves to get at him._

‘Oh, ‘he said airily, ‘I had no plans, actually. I haven’t been here long, so I don’t know many people yet. And you’re _not_ an old crock.’ He favoured her with another of his shy smiles and Liz was certain she would faint like some Victorian lady with a too-tight corset. ‘I’m so glad I went in search of the cries of pain.’

Liz blushed. _If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was flirting…_

‘Well, I am incredibly grateful you did. I’d probably still be stuck down there trying to crawl to the lift.’ They sat, talking, laughing, and listening for a while, until the CD finished and Liz felt she could not sustain being upright any longer and confessed she needed her bed. He offered to assist but she drew the line at that, instead asking him to switch everything off for her and make sure the door locked behind him.

Will still insisted on helping her to the door of her bedroom, and when she turned to bid him farewell their faces were closer than she expected, making her lose her words. He smelt too good; his clear skin looked too touchable, too kissable; his lips… His lips touched her cheek and lingered. Liz felt a shiver go through her, and clutched at the door handle to stay on her feet. His nose brushed against her ear and she felt his breath whisper over her.

Will was trying not to shake. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and he really wanted to kiss her properly. But he knew this was not the time, even if she would be interested in a silly boy like him. She was in a lot of pain, even after the pills and the wine. So he settled for breathing her in a little and being a gentleman.

‘May I come back and check on you tomorrow? Can I get anything for you, shopping, that sort of thing? Make you lunch, dinner again, maybe?’

Liz thought for a moment. Did she want to hobble around in agony, clutching the furniture, dropping things and feeling miserable all weekend? Or would she rather be waited on hand and foot by a Botticelli angel with an arse to die for? She looked into those deep pools, darker than she remembered from earlier.

‘But surely you have things to do, Will?’

He shook his lovely curls. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. So?’

‘Alright, if you insist. Could you come back about ten?’ He nodded. She had a thought. ‘If you look in the top drawer in the kitchen, there’s a spare key.’ His eyebrow arched; she realised it sounded a bit like she was asking him to move in or something… ‘Oh, no… hahaha…’she giggled in embarrassment, ‘I just meant you could let yourself in tomorrow, you know, save me getting up…’ She was blushing again. Nobody had made her blush like this in years. Then Will laughed that funny little laugh of his and Liz let out a sigh of relief. She did notice that he too seemed a little pinker than before.

‘You know, it’s a shame we didn’t speak properly sooner, Liz.’

Feeling her blush deepening, and still slightly wobbling with most of weight on her better side, she risked another look into those beautiful and kind, ever-darkening eyes. She agreed, but wasn’t sure if his reasoning was the same as hers. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because then _I_ could have taken your rubbish out instead and saved you getting hurt.’ He looked down shyly, trying to collect himself before he did, or more likely _said_ , something rash or stupid. ‘And then we could have spent time together without you being in so much pain.’

_Holy shit! That’s flirting… Quick, think of something to say. Something that isn’t too full of innuendo or makes you sound like a perv or an idiot…_

‘Well, we’ve spoken now. And I won’t be laid up forever…’ Her blush deepened yet more, and so did Will’s.

_Epic fail, Elizabeth._

_EPIC._

Will let himself out of her flat and practically skipped down the hall to his own. He switched his phone back on, seeing a dozen missed calls, mostly from his father. Checking up on him as usual, no doubt. He smiled to himself.

_He won’t like this. Good, because I certainly do…_


	2. A Little Piece of Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has been looking after Liz for a couple of weeks and she is climbing the walls with sexual frustration.

Her body arched with pleasure. ‘William…’ she murmured into the soft skin of his neck. His large, strong hands were on her body; his powerful arms enfolded her; she could feel him inside her. It was heaven, magical…

Liz felt herself emerging, surfacing back into the room from sleep, becoming conscious of the bed under her and the weight of the duvet. The wave of emptiness that came with that sensation left her gasping and close to tears. Sighing heavily, she swung her legs over the edge and carefully got to an upright position: she was still being cautious with her back.

She was alone, as usual, of course.

It was unfair. She was a grown woman, why did she keep dreaming about Will? She had become rather obsessed with her young neighbour since the night he rescued her. She had pulled muscles in her back badly when she was out by the dustbins – a typically glamorous location – and he had helped her back to her flat, cooked her dinner and acted as her home-help for the next week. Will had even offered to carry her at first: she declined that generous but mortifying offer. Once she had begun to regain some mobility, he had continued to do her shopping and helped with any heavy lifting.

Now, after two weeks of pain she was just about fully-recovered, thanks to the mixture of rest, gentle movement and osteopathy that usually did the trick; the process had been accelerated thanks to his assistance. She had invited him over that evening, two weeks to the day since he came to her aid. She was cooking him dinner and she was uncontrollably nervous about it. And these sex-dreams were not helping. It was a bitter-sweet experience, spending so much time in Will’s company. He was gorgeous: sexy, handsome, clever, funny and kind; and she got the feeling he liked her too. But he was half her age, and she didn’t want to become a cliché. Few things seemed more undignified to her than an older woman making a fool of herself over a beautiful younger man. And she would hate to embarrass him and drive him away.

Liz wasn’t inexperienced with men or anything, just rather out of practice. Since she gave up her office job five years before she had worked from home – as a freelance editor and moderately successful novelist – so saw few people and socialised very little. She was single these days; she had been so for nearly ten years, when her last relationship ended. She hadn’t made a choice to remain celibate, it just sort of happened. She had no real expectation that anything was going to come of her attraction to Will, not really. It couldn’t, could it?

But nevertheless, she wanted him. She thought of little else most days. So the prospect of what to all intents and purposes was a _date_ with him was a little daunting.

By six-thirty she felt calm and mostly prepared. The _coq au vin_ and _pommes_ _boulangère_ were in the oven and smelling yummy and her dessert speciality, _nougat glacé_ had reached the correct degree of frozen. She was cursing her own stupidity in choosing to bake cheese soufflés for the starter, but it was too late now. She trusted her skills and experience, in the kitchen at least, but just the thought of Will made her swoon like a girl.

_He was just so beautiful, inside and out. And so unbearably sexy._

She checked the mirror: hair brushed and lightly tousled (in other words, amateurishly blow-dried); face lightly made-up and not _too_ wrinkly; her pretty top a good shade to flatter her complexion and shaped to skim over the faults (but low-cut to show off her assets); perfume applied. All set.

Will was pacing around his living-room. He went through his mental list: _flowers – check; wine (no, champagne – this is special) – check; do I look smart enough? – oh my god, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM DOING!_ He looked at his reflection: a tall, slim young man with unruly blond curls looked back at him, his face wracked with anxiety. He felt ridiculous.

_She won’t want this. It’s so presumptuous of me; she’ll be insulted. Why would a beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated woman like her want anything to do with a country bumpkin barely out of school?_

His phone buzzed in his pocket and pulling it out he saw his father’s face on the screen. He let it go to voicemail: he did not want to deal with him at that moment. Ever since Will’s mother had died from cancer a few years earlier his Dad had become obsessed with controlling his every move. He had objected to his choice of degree, to his choice of career, to every girl he had dated so far. You might think that the fact that his son ignored his advice all the time would have told him something, but still he kept on. Without his wife’s presence he was focused on Will far too much.

_Was that part of the attraction of Liz? An adult who treated him as an equal without judgement?_

_No. There was more to it than that. Much more…_

The clock on his bookshelf caught his eye: it was two minutes to seven. He looked at the flowers on the table: he had vacillated for ages – were roses too forward? He had decided finally that he might as well make a declaration of intent. Setting his jaw, he gathered them up with the bubbly and strode towards the door.

_Roses! Oh…and champagne! Wow. So charming…_

_That must mean something…?_

Will leaned down and kissed Liz on the cheek, lingering a little to inhale her fragrance for a moment.  He felt her shiver slightly and wondered if he did have a chance. He had gone over every conversation, every look and gesture between them a thousand times, trying to deduce if she was interested. It was so difficult to tell, because he had lost confidence in his ability to see clearly; he wanted her too much.

They both felt it: there was a different atmosphere tonight. Will had been in Liz’s flat many times since he found her rigid with agony by the bins two weeks before. They had developed a friendship which seemed easy and natural; except for every now and then. Occasionally Will would catch sight of Liz as she moved or spoke or just sat reading, and see her beauty as clear as day, calling to him. Or Liz would be close to Will and have to fight the urge to caress his cheek or touch his strong arms.

Tonight, those things were all they could see and feel.

Liz pulled her thoughts together and put the champagne on the table.

‘I’ll just get some flutes for this,’ she said, heading for the kitchen with the roses. She put the glasses on the tray she had prepared for aperitifs and found a vase for the flowers. She held one up to her nose as she arranged them: it had a faint fragrance and the soft, velvety bloom felt like silk against her lips. She closed her eyes and sighed.

_Were the flowers meaningful? You don’t buy roses for a **friend** , you give them to a woman you like, right? He knows that, surely…_

Will stood, tense and nervous in the living room, watching Liz. She liked the roses, he could see. The way she held one up to her face… His stomach was in knots; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat anything. He admired her grace as she moved around the kitchen and the shape of her bottom as she bent to check on something in the oven. She looked stunning tonight, so sexy… He felt the blood surging and adjusted his jeans.

_Dear god, man, calm down!_

Liz was stalling, scared now. The roses and champagne had ratcheted things up: Will’s intentions seemed clearer, but she felt unable to make a reasoned assessment since her desire for him was at fever-pitch. The soufflés were nearly ready, so if they were going to have a drink first, she had to get back in there. She moved to carry the tray in but suddenly he was there, gently taking hold of her arm and shaking his head, saying ‘No. Allow me.’ His face was close to hers, and the touch on her arm was like an electric shock. There was a beat’s pause, then Will took hold of the tray.

‘Shall I?’ He was holding the bottle when Liz gathered herself enough to follow him.

‘Please.’ She looked at him; his brows furrowed as he tussled with the foil and then untwisted the wire. He handled the bottle with skill and poured them a glass each. Had he felt it, that buzz? She thought he had. They stood where they were and raised their glasses.

‘To your good health!’ He tapped hers gently with his.

‘And to your career, Will. Is it going well, the training?’

He smiled crookedly. ‘I think so. And you? Have you been able to write this week at all?’

Liz sighed. She hadn’t written more than three thousand words in the past two weeks: initially unable to since she was in too much pain, latterly because she was too distracted to concentrate. ‘Not much. But I am so much better now.  I’m sure I can make up for it.’

He smiled again, that soft, sweet, wistful smile that made her body scream for him.

_How can everything he does turn me on? Just a smile, his voice, the way he opened the wine. And when he touched me tonight!_

Liz had allowed her thoughts to drift away, and she was looking at Will as if he was a painting or a perfect Renaissance sculpture. He in turn was admiring her: how her hair fell against her cheek, how kissable her lips were. Liz ran her eyes over him, from his endless legs to his chiselled jaw and that mop of tuggable curls. Then, as her gaze reached his blue-grey eyes something snapped. Whatever it was that was keeping them apart, whatever restraint it was that was stopping them from giving in to the overwhelming want they shared for each other just threw up its hands and left.

‘Liz…’

One step and he was against her, his mouth on hers and it was more, so much more than he had expected. His hands grasped her upper arms and hers reached for his hair as they kissed as if their lives depended on it. Somewhere, in a faraway land, an oven timer dinged to say something or other was ready, but Liz barely heard it. She was luxuriating in him, in his fragrance, the feel of his hair, of his neck. He tasted of champagne and mint and his lips made her whole body tingle.

Will allowed his hands to drift to her back and down to the swell of her bottom. How he had wanted to touch her like this! He could feel his hardness growing but there was no need to hide it now. She had shown him that she felt the same and it was glorious. He leaned into her, pressing his pelvis against her body and moaning into her mouth at the friction. Liz could tell there was no doubt about his interest in her; it matched hers in him. Something very hard and rather large was pressing into her stomach.

When at last his mouth freed hers, she started to whisper in his ear as he sucked softly on her neck, but she found it hard to form a sentence.

‘Will…oh…we should…’ Her words were no more than whimpers.

Then he reached that sensitive spot where neck becomes shoulder and she gave up.

Will’s mind had been whirling when they began to kiss. Liz wanted him; he had seen it in her eyes. And now he could hardly breathe. She was in his arms, yielding to him, her sexy body pressing into his and he felt like a virgin again, scared he would mess it up. But now she was reaching for his hand and pulling him towards her bedroom door.

_Oh god, this is really happening._

Liz pushed the door open. The light was on, down low, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she had tidied the room and the bed. As they neared it, Will took hold of her again and kissed her neck from behind, murmuring her name. She stopped and leaned back, her head rolling to rest on his shoulder. His hands were on her breasts, caressing them though her silky blouse, marvelling at how her nipples hardened under his fingers. Her whole body seemed to be reacting to him in way that he had never experienced before. She turned in his arms and he ran his hands feverishly all over her, unable to decide what he wanted to touch next. Then she began to undo the first buttons on his dark blue shirt and when her fingertips made contact with his skin he almost lost control.

The rest of the undressing was not gentle. The remaining buttons on his shirt flew across the room as he ripped it from his body. Her flowery, soft top was dragged over her head and cast aside. Liz reached for his belt and as her hand brushed his treasure trail Will groaned and couldn’t stop his hips from bucking.

‘Oh Liz, I need you so much.’

She hardly recognised herself. This voracious woman, tearing the clothes from this young, lithe body, her whole being thrumming with anticipation; and then she saw it.

_Oh my, William._

_Wow._

Will took advantage of her momentary distraction to reclaim her mouth, and once he had, he set to work on her bra fastening. Liz tensed up: this was what she had been dreading. Some parts of her stilled passed muster, but a well-endowed woman of her vintage begins to lose the battle with gravity. Will did not see anything amiss, just took hold of her and loved.

This, their first coupling was not gentle or slow; they were both too worked up for that. Will pulled at her trousers, she removed them herself and then they were on the bed. He kissed her again and again. He allowed his lips to travel, worshipping all of her. Liz tangled her fingers in his curls, guiding him and setting the pace, but her need was as strong as his; stronger. She knew he wanted to taste her but she needed him inside and gradually she got him to understand that.

‘Please, Will. Please…’

He lifted himself up on his arms and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were blown with lust, just like his. ‘Is that what you want?’ She nodded, reached for him, and wrapped her hand around his length. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Her touch had brought him so close. ‘Are you ready?’

Again she nodded. She had been ready since she first saw him standing by the lift, the day he moved in. Dusty and scruffy in his old sweatshirt and torn jeans, she had thought him worthy of a romantic novel cover or even a porno. Except that he was too handsome, too perfect, even dressed like that. In his suit he resembled a model.

And so, finally, after all her dreams and Will’s fantasies, he was there. He slid slowly, inexorably into her soft, welcoming body. Liz had never known a sensation like it. Her ex had not been much of a lover, and not very large either. Will was kind and strong and huge. As he filled her she moaned, clutching at him. It felt too good.

‘Are you real?’ she whispered. ‘I have dreamed this so often, I’m not sure.’

He laughed softly and the sound and movement caused such a wave of pleasure to ricochet around her that she knew he was, indeed, a living, breathing man and not just her imagination. ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ever so slowly and carefully drawing back, only to plunge in more forcefully this time, ‘this is real, Liz. So wonderfully real.’

Not so very many minutes later they lay side by side on the covers. Will was slick with sweat; Liz lay in a haze of ecstasy. Their hands were intertwined on the pillow, and she drew his up to her lips.

‘I’m sorry that was bit… fast.’ He was embarrassed. ‘… but I wanted you so badly I just…’

‘Oh love, it was perfect. And I hope, there will be time for more leisurely lovemaking…?’

Will sat up. ‘Oh yes, I hope so! If you’ll allow me…’ His eyebrows arched and she stroked his soft warm cheek.

‘Try and stop… is that burn… Oh shit! The soufflés!

She tried to get up quickly, but recent events had used some out-of-condition muscles and she was stiff; movement was awkward. Will shot up and ran to the kitchen, stark naked. He switched off the cooker and removed the smouldering starters.

‘It’s ok. Not quite a fire!’ he called to her. Liz flopped back on the pillow and started to giggle. ‘What’s so funny?’ He had returned and was blushing wildly: it was clearly something to do with him.

‘I just had a thought. With my back the way it is, if we keep this up you might have to carry me around after all…’


	3. Pastime in Good Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas, and Will has a special gift in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from a carol attributed to Henry VIII

“You must have _some_ , surely?”

Liz shook her head, not pausing in her stirring. Despite an avowed indifference to the up-coming festival, she was preparing a batch of her favourite frangipani mince pies for the freezer. Will crossed the sitting room to stand in the kitchen doorway. “You mean you don’t celebrate it _at all_?”

Sighing, she put her spoon down, took the pan off the heat and turned to face him. As always, the sight took her breath away. Framed there, his soft blond curls making him resemble a Christmas angel, he filled the space. “I’m not the Grinch, I just don’t join in the spend-fest clusterfuck. And I choose not to decorate the flat with over-priced tasteless trinkets. I’m not religious, I’ve no family to speak of, but I do go out with friends to celebrate. As for putting up a tree… well, when it’s just me, why bother?”

His face was twisted in puzzlement. “But…I mean, I _understand_ , but… it seems so… _Nothing?_ ” He glanced at her bookshelves, and the handful of greetings cards gathered there in a pile. They hurt his heart. He had to do something. “Would you object if I decorated a little?”

Liz sighed. “Will, it’s really sweet of you, but you don’t have to.” She suspected it was futile to protest; that glint was in his eye, the one that appeared when he had an idea, when he found a new project to throw his considerable energy into. He was already reaching for his coat, bristling with excitement. However, she made a token effort. “If it’s just me here on the day, what would be the point, darling?”

“But you won’t be alone.” He paused, one arm in a sleeve, the other out, his bottom lip on the verge of a pout. “Unless you have other plans?”

She shook her head. “No, just staying here. But what about your father, Will? Surely you’ll be with him?”

“Only if I can get a lift on a helicopter.”

“Sorry, what?”

Will, who had resumed donning his coat, was looking at her sadly. “He told me last night he’s going on a cruise. He’ll be somewhere off the Greek coast come Christmas Morning.”

“Oh love.” Liz felt anger threatening in her chest. Will’s surviving parent was at one turn smothering and controlling, at the next neglectful and callous. She found it impossible to understand how a parent could be so distant, uninterested.

“And as I have to be at work until five on Christmas Eve…”

She walked over and wrapped her arms around his lean torso, rested her head on his firm chest and mumbled into his coat. “Then you’ll be coming here so we can spend Christmas together, won’t you.”

Liz felt Will take a juddering breath. Undoubtedly he was a man, but he was still a young man. And she thought, a lonely one, before they met at least. She knew he wouldn’t admit it, but the loss of his mum was still raw. She thought he had not yet come to that point in his life when people feel the tables turn in the family dynamic, and parents and children begin exchanging roles. She felt herself stiffen, thinking of their age difference, aware of a raising wave of concern. Will straightened his back, palpably firming his resolve.

“In which case, we’ll need a tree. And decorations.”

*****

It was far too big. It wouldn’t fit in the lift so he had to climb four flights of stairs with it. Several people passed him as he toiled, struggling to hold onto the slippery net the man at B&Q had wrapped his chosen tree in. They were all smiling, some made unhelpful remarks; not one offered to assist him. “So much for Christmas spirit,” he muttered under his breath as he reversed through the doors to their floor at last. He tapped on Liz’s door, unable to reach his key.

_It’s a Dr Who monster_

Even though she was expecting him, it took Liz a few seconds to process what she was seeing. A seven-foot net-wrapped green object was gently wobbling in the corridor; it was only when she spotted Will’s large hands holding the thing that she twigged.

“Are you nuts, Will? This is _huge._ It won’t even fit, will it? _”_

The tree began to shake lightly, then it moved towards her. She hopped to one side to allow the triffid entrance. A muffled voice emerged from behind the branches. “I know – I may have misjudged.” He was panting, still breathless from the battle with the stairs. “I think it will be OK.” He looked a little doubtful in the face of Liz’s sceptical eyebrow. “I hope.” And then he played his trump card: the lop-sided smile. She melted instantly.

“How is it going to stand up, anyway?” She looked around the room, trying to decide where might be best.

“Oh, I bought one of those base thingies. And plenty of decs.” He was grinning again. He leaned the tree against the only bit of wall available and headed back for the door. “The rest of the stuff is still in the car. I’ll just be a minute.”

Liz smiled to herself. How the hell he had fitted this gargantuan Nordmann fir into his Peugeot she could hardly imagine, but it was so endearing, seeing him in the grip of his enthusiasm. Like the night they’d met, when after helping her back to her flat he had insisted on cooking her a meal. Or the day they went to the National Gallery together and he had a list of ‘must-see’ works: he had dragged her all over the building. It was exhausting but so gratifying, seeing his face full of the excitement and joy that being in the presence of great art can bring.

Yes, it had been a wonderful few months with Will Buxton; her Indian summer. This sweet and sexy person had come into her life and made her feel young and happy again.

Liz let him get on with it. Knowing her controlling tendencies would make her want to interfere, she turned away and tried to work. She clipped her brunette hair up on the back of her head, donned her specs and concentrated on the screen, working steadily through the text she was editing. There was the the occasional muttered curse, especially when he was unfurling the cable for the fairy lights, and a scraping noise as he moved the stool he was standing on to add the topmost ornaments. But largely he was quiet, respectful of her needs as ever. After a couple of hours he cleared his throat and she spun her office chair to be greeted with a beautiful sight.

 Liz had decorated her home in muted colours throughout: olive greens and sands, duck-egg blue and creams. Will had scoured the stores for baubles that matched that aesthetic, and the result was stunning. White flickering lights illuminated subtle beige and white stars and pale green balls; golden garlands, camels and reindeer swung gently among clusters of nuts and wooden birds. Crowning the tree was a crystal star, which glinted in the darkening afternoon.

“Oh Will… It’s gorgeous!”

He smiled proudly, his cheeks reddening. “Not too much?”

She stood and walked around, admiring his handiwork from various angles. It dominated the room, but in a good way; the way a Christmas tree should. Her fears about the size had been unfounded. It fit neatly in the space between the bookshelves and the door to the hallway, and gave a new, refreshing focus to the room.

And it smelled like Christmas had when she was a girl.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly. “Not at all, darling. It’s perfect.” She was alarmed to feel a lump in her throat; Will seemed to have the key to all her feelings. His face was a picture of happiness. He kissed her back, a little less softly.

“I’m so glad you like it! Now, what shall I cook you for dinner?”

*****

Christmas Eve seemed like any other day to Liz, as long as she didn’t put on the radio or TV, and kept away from the Internet. She was waiting for Will to arrive, as she so often was. He spent every weekend with her, and several nights a week as well, unless he was away onsite somewhere. Her working life was her desk and her computer, so there she was, as usual, toiling steadily until she heard his key in the lock.

“Liz.”

His voice made her whole body tingle.

“Will.”

He closed the space between them, leaning past her to put a bottle of wine on the worktop. “Merry Christmas, darling.” He nuzzled her hair, steadily pressing the length of his body against hers, enveloping her in his limbs and his scent. She took a deep breath, relaxing into the embrace, feeling all the tension and tiredness of the working day leave her body.

“How long do we have until dinner?”

She paused, smiling. “Depends. I could turn the oven down and then we’d have lon-“

She couldn’t finish because she was swept off her feet by a pair of strong young arms. A stubbly cheek rubbed against her neck and she found herself traversing the flat on the way to the bedroom. She wanted to giggle, but the wave of lust that was sweeping over her had stolen her breath. At the same time, she was rather surprised, because this kind of impulsive thing wasn’t William’s usual style.

They reached the bed and he set her carefully onto her feet again, his chest heaving and his eyes almost black with want. She looked up at his beautiful, serious face. She smirked naughtily.

“What do you want for Christmas, my darling?”

The slow, sexy smile that crept across his face made Liz melt. “I want you to _use_ me.”

Her eyes rolled shut momentarily. She was half expecting something like this. Their lovemaking had been getting more adventurous, but lately she had felt him wanting her to take control, more than once. Now he had expressed that desire openly, and she was happy to comply.

Silently, she began to undress him, sliding his suit jacket over his shoulders, down his arms and placing it carefully on the chair in the corner. He was dressed formally for the company reception that lunchtime, and she loved to see him in his finery. Tie next, and the simple act of sliding the silk from under his collar made Liz whimper. The intensity of his eyes, fixed as they were on her mouth, was overwhelming. She pressed against his leg, very slightly, needing the friction. He resisted the pressure, giving her a split-second of relief. Deliberately slowly, she curled the tie around her hand and put it down on the seat. Lifting his arms, she removed his cufflinks, one after the other and then she began the tortuous unfastening of the shirt. Her fingertips brushed the soft skin beneath, danced over the cluster of hairs that decorated his sternum. Each contact made him gasp, and she knew that it was working, this oh-so-steady pace…

Pausing to remove her own cardigan, shirt and jeans, she returned to find him waiting and watching patiently. He had toed off his shoes and discarded his socks. Meticulously, trying with only partial success to still the trembling of her fingers, she undid the buckle on his belt and pulled it through the loops, winding it into a snake-like bundle that she rested beside its fellow on the chair. Rather than going directly to the waistband button, she let her right index finger trace the shape of him, from his neck, downwards, ghosting over his clavicle and one hard nipple, then gently over the fall and rise of his abdominals to the trail of hair beneath. His eyes were on her hand now, and she sensed him holding his breath. Her thumb pressed the button through its hole and then deft fingers lowered the zip in an unhurried manner. It wasn’t easy: the seams were close to bursting.

“Lie down, Will.” She heard a low, commanding tone she barely recognised as her own voice, and wordlessly he complied, hitching himself up the bed to settle with his head on the pillows. Now it was time for her to finish undressing and again, she took her time. Aware she was wetter than ever, she slid her lacy panties down as gracefully as she could manage, to a soundtrack of groans of lust that were rumbling deep in his chest. Naked, her legs close to quivering, she walked to the bedside table and retrieved a condom, putting it within reach but not opening it yet. The back of Will’s hand brushed her thigh and she whimpered again, swallowing hard.

If this was his chosen Christmas present, she wanted to make it a memorable one.

“I want you to lick me, Will.”

The demand sounded wrong in her mouth, but his face told her otherwise.  She straddled his head and at once his tongue set to work. Liz gripped the bedhead, her hips wanting to buck as he licked and sucked and nibbled. Slowly at first, then harder and faster as she murmured then shouted her desire. His hands held tight onto her thighs as he moaned into her, his tongue questing, ratcheting up the pleasure he was giving. Her knees hurt, the muscles in her legs were trembling and when she came it was with a great shout of his name. He continued to suck and lick her, slowly, softly, as she came down from her high, until her arms gave way as well and she slumped on his chest, her face in the crook of his neck.

“What else would you like, love?” she breathed.

He cupped his large, warm hands around her face, lifted her head and looked deep into her eyes. She felt herself falling, drowning. “I want you to ride me, Liz.”

He was so hard. Harder than ever before, it seemed. Hot marble in a silken glove. Her legs had not recovered properly and they almost gave out as she lowered herself onto him. Her arms wobbled as she steadied herself, hands on his shoulders. Still he watched her, his blue-grey eyes fixed on hers, flicking to her mouth as she moaned her pleasure. Sensing her tiredness and knowing she needed to be careful of her back, he grasped her hips tight – tight enough to leave tiny bruises that lasted into the New Year – and thrust firmly up into her welcoming wetness.

He loved her so much at that moment. He didn’t know how much until then, until he saw her face and it flowed through his entire being like a tide of joy. Because he could see her love for him, feel it, taste it. Her beauty; dark eyes and pale, creamy skin, the mouth he dreamed of nightly. The easy companionship, their total compatibility of body and mind and heart… this was all he had ever wanted, and he had found it. Here, with her.

“Will, oh… more, please…” Her voice had that dark, irresistible timbre once more and he felt his hips snap upwards before he could control it. She moaned louder and he did it again. And again. He watched, fascinated as the blush rose up her body and coloured her neck. He licked and kissed the pink heat, and she said his name in time with his bucking hips. He felt her stiffening and speeded his movements, one hand reaching between them to press on her clit. Her moans were louder still and he felt his own release was close. He craned his neck to take a nipple into his mouth, suckling hard as she screamed and he was suddenly drenched with her juices as her soft body clutched at him. His thrusts became uncontrolled and deeper and deeper until he said her name in a breathy moan.

The room was dark and cool, but neither felt like moving just yet. They lay in a tangle on the covers, heartbeats in synch, breathing slowing gradually. Liz’s voice was quiet. “Did I…?”

He chuckled, a deep, dark sound that resonated through her. “I rather think you did, yes.”

“Wow. Just shows, you’re never too old for something new, I suppose.”

“You mean you never…?”

“Nope. Don’t think so, anyway…” She grinned. “Do you think it’s the tree?”

He laughed at her teasing. “OK, so tomorrow it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“To choose.” Liz looked at him blankly. “This…” he spread his arms, “… was _my_ present, remember.”

“ _Fucking hell_ … Well, OK. I’d better get thinking, because I’m not sure I can come up with anything I’d like better than round two of this, to tell you the truth.”

He kissed her sweetly, his lips tracing hers and his tongue probing carefully, before he withdrew. “What day is it? Of the week, I mean?”

“Thursday.”

“So that means we can have at least…” he paused momentarily. “At _least_ four more rounds before I have to go into work again…” His smile lit the room.

The scent of dinner roused them and they dressed minimally. When she emerged from the kitchen with the tray he had put on some music she didn’t immediately recognise. Her cocked head made him grin.

“I bought it today. It’s all ancient and mediæval carols. I thought it made a nice change from Slade and Wizard _._ ” He smiled that sexy, one-sided, eyebrow-raised smirk that made her stomach flutter. “More _you._ ”

She set out the bowls and cutlery and placed the casserole and rice on the mats while the choir filled the flat with haunting harmonies. He watched her doing all this with her usual grace and his love threatened to bubble over again. Her dark hair glistened in the lights from the tree, and her warm skin glowed. He lit the candles, sat and poured them both a glass of Montepulciano D’Abruzzo. He lifted his in a toast.

“Merry Christmas, Liz. Our first together, but not our last, I trust.”

She looked at his beautiful face, his eyebrows arched in a gesture of hope. Was there really a future for them? The age difference didn’t seem to bother him, and she only thought about it occasionally herself. _What did it matter really?_ They fit; they went together like two halves of a puzzle. They loved each other. Nothing else counted, not in the greater scheme…

Liz allowed her face to blossom into a broad smile. “I’ll drink to that, my darling.”


End file.
